


Some Nights

by zanzibar



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 14:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanzibar/pseuds/zanzibar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lately Kaner has been more than a little vocal about his desire to limit the number of shots to the head Johnny’s taking.</p><p>Fighting Joe Thornton is not part of that plan.</p><p>In which Johnny drops the gloves and Patrick is the only one who is unimpressed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Title from fun. from the song of the same name. Featured in this Blackhawks video which I love . . . http://video.blackhawks.nhl.com/videocenter/console?catid=1012&id=194997&cmpid=embed-share-video
> 
> This is completely thanks to Jonathan Toews' actual dropping of the gloves last night. And my relief that he lived through it with nothing more than a black eye and a fat lip [per the beautiful Patrick Sharp]. Also written so as to distract myself from the tragic first period of the Oilers game.

While Johnny drops the gloves with Thornton Kaner tries to use his time wisely. He shakes out his legs, adjusts his socks, snags his water bottle for a quick drink and draws a set of quick calming breaths in preparation for the all-out sprint that Tazer’s fight has all but guaranteed will end the period. 

None of this actually helps him forget that just down the ice his boyfriend is scrapping with someone who has him beat by about 4 inches and outweighs him by 30 pounds. 

Tazer comes straight off the ice and heads down the tunnel, he taps his stick against Kaner’s back when he passes but Kaner doesn’t look up. The bench is quietly focused on the PK and Patrick steals one look over his shoulder at the silhouette walking assuredly away from the bench.

Of course then Marleau takes a penalty on Bolly and Patrick’s hopping over the boards to play 4-on-4. 

Patrick loves playing 4-on-4, he loves the wide open ice and the open lanes and the way that the game lends itself to speed and stickhandling. 4-on-4 is basically the game that he loves catering to him. 

After the chances they’ve had earlier in the period Bolly’s goal is almost anticlimactic. That doesn’t make scoring any less sweet and Tazer is quick to tap each of their helmets when they come in between periods.

After some dicey moments in the middle period they manage to pull out the W. Kaner tries not to think of himself as a superstitious person, but after the game he’d rather not talk about the winning in the midst of the winning. It feels a little too much like tempting the wrath from high atop the thing, where the hockey gods are. Whatever that thing is called. So he’s almost grateful that Johnny dropped the gloves for the illustrious third time in his career, because it means less talking about their record and more talking about his truly atrocious fighting skills.

But Kaner also remembers with a little too much clarity exactly what lingering concussion symptoms look like. He has no trouble producing a mental picture of Johnny, curled on the couch, pale and drawn, with ever-present dark circles under his eyes. Kaner can remember the extra second it took Johnny to find his balance when he stood up from the couch and the wince when he turned on the bathroom light that led Kaner to enlist Sharpy to help him swap all the lightbulbs in the house to a lower wattage. 

And as a result Kaner has been more than a little vocal, publicly and privately, about his desire to limit the number of headshots Johnny’s taking, defending himself or not, making a point or not.

Fighting Joe Thornton is, one can assume, not part of that plan.

After the game everyone wants to make the point that Johnny’s fight had spurned the Hawks to victory. Patrick isn’t sure if that’s true or not, but it certainly appears to have riled the post-game media into a fury.

The reporters move on from Johnny to get reaction from everyone else in the room about the captain dropping the gloves. Patrick flashes the trademark Kaner grin, manages not to run his mouth about stupid decisions by stupid boyfriends and rolls his eyes a little when someone comments on the newly more mature Kaner. 

Someone on the other side of the huddle asks Patrick if he’s ever going to drop the gloves. He’s happy with the distraction, grins and flexes his hands and says something about not wanting to damage his sick mitts. But the truth is two-fold. That’s not really his game, he’s a shooter, and a skater and a good hands guy. But more importantly, he’s not stupid, he barely cracks 6 feet in skates and weighs in at 180 on a good day, after a big breakfast and a big lunch. He’s the smallest guy on the ice nearly all the time and his mama didn’t raise no fools.

They’re skating with the Wounded Warriors at Soldier Field early Saturday morning so there’s not much energy for going out to celebrate. They shower and dress quickly after the reporters have left and snag a Gatorade from the cooler in the corner as they head out the doors.

In the players lot Patrick moves for the drivers side door of Johnny's Mercedes when he’d normally be content to ride shotgun. The unspoken rule of their relationship is Johnny's the captain, but once they’re outside the UC Patrick is entitled to be stupidly overprotective. And tonight he’s going to exercise that privilege.

They share a condo now, their relationship progressing to the point where home is actually a place they share, somewhere they go together. They have 2 parking spots in the underground garage, their game day suits share closet space and Kaner’s Men’s Health magazines are mixed with Tazer’s weird French cooking magazines in the basket in the bathroom. Even in cohabitation they occupy each other's spaces just as they’ve done for years. 

Tonight their post-game routine happens mostly in comfortable silence. Johnny tosses his jacket over the back of the couch and beelines to the kitchen to make a protein shake. Patrick wanders down the hall to the bedroom where he strips out of his suit and gets in the shower. Once he's there he stands under the spray and lets the steam curl around him and the hot water drum against his weary body. Drawing a deep breath he takes a minute to squeeze his eyes shut and let his hands shake. When he's back under control he ducks his face under the water and pointedly doesn't think about anything until Johnny opens the door and all the warmth is sucked out.

Johnny sets the smaller protein shake on the edge of the counter and disappears into the walk-in closet to change his clothes.

Patrick washes his hair quickly and the familiar scent of the not-lockerroom soap calms him while he scrubs the post-game, post-shower sweat from his body. He pulls on a pair of oversized Hawks sweats and the UND t shirt that’s in the top of the laundry basket.

In the living room Johnny is dressed similarly and kicked up in his seat on the couch, ESPN is on low in the background and his half empty glass on the coffee table at his feet. Patrick disappears into the kitchen to load his empty glass in the dishwasher and returns with a bag of corn wrapped in a dish towel. Johnny accepts it without comment and presses it against his eye.

Patrick curls into his corner of the couch, pulling the blanket off the chair and tucking it around his legs because the protein shake is inevitably going to make him cold. He snags his phone from back of the couch and sets the timer for 10 minutes before scrolling through the texts and tweets he’s received since they left the UC.

When the timer goes off Kaner crawls across the cushions to pull the corn back and press his lips against the cool, swollen skin. 

“I don't want to fight about this,” he draws a deep breath, because god knows they’ve had this fight before, and will likely do it again. “I know why you did it and understand why you felt like you had to do it. But that doesn't mean I’m ever going to like standing to the side and watching some huge dude wale on you.”

“I know,” Johnny smiles his weary post game smile and presses their lips together briefly. “I’m sorry.” Patrick ducks under Johnny’s arm to tuck himself against his side and pulls the blanket over to cover them both.

In the morning they skate with the Wounded Warriors and the fight is all anyone can talk about and the Blackhawks PR guy who runs the twitter refers to Johnny as Captain Shiner.

Kaner laughs in the passenger seat all the way home.


End file.
